


closed out the light coming in

by ringerxo



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fluff, Four Seasons, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 18:44:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8296178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ringerxo/pseuds/ringerxo
Summary: Seasons change, people don't. Or maybe they do.
Winter, spring, summer, and fall. Two people trip over each other, and the world shapes itself around them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of different than everything I've done before. First of all, no smut planned. But it's a slow burn. Also, it's my way of whipping myself back into writing mode after an impromptu school-related hiatus. (*hides from iwltwgq readers*) There's going to be one chapter per season. Don't know about the posting schedule, but I'm feeling inspired, so it might go faster than you think.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also, this was betaed by the wonderful [Michelle](http://malec-clace-sizzy-delena-clizzy.tumblr.com/), who kept me on track and hopefully will forgive me for posting this before she read the last part :D Thanks so much!
> 
> And thanks to the lovely Ace, who is lovely and patient and, well, did I say lovely yet?
> 
> Fic title's from Sweet Thing's [Change of Season](https://youtu.be/aAP44_pygco).

Upstate New York wasn’t known as the best place to get stuck in a blizzard, unless you chose to be there.

Which is why, when Alec peered out the kitchen window, squinting to better make out the shape of a Jeep making its way up the access road to the farmhouse through the whirling snow, he sighed and started pulling on his outside gear.

The snow was falling quick and fast, and he had elected to stay at his wreck of a house throughout. The house was in too remote of a location to be a priority for the road-clearing crews, so instead of getting stuck in the confines of a city that felt far too strange and consuming to him, he stocked up on food and candles, cranked the generator in the basement, charged all his portable speakers, and brought down another sleeping bag from the attic, shaking off the dust and cobwebs and settling it on top of his current one, laid out in front of the kitchen hearth.

(Yes, hearth. And active, too. The house was that old.)

He wrestled with the idea of using the dilapidated paneling stacked in the corner of the living room as kindling, and banished it with a sigh, making a note to pull in a few logs and some kindling from the mud room on his way back in. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he started burning bits of the house because he was too tired to pull in heavy logs, especially when he knew that the logs would burn longer, hotter.

Pulling a hat down over his ears, Alec shuffled into the mud room, shutting the door behind him. The room was icy but dry, with a battery-operated lantern standing in the corner. Alec flicked it on, shoved his feet into the first pair of rubber boots on the rack, and looked at the ropes coiled by the door. They threw strange shadows onto the wall from the fluorescent glow of the lantern.

It wasn’t Alaska out there, but he didn’t know his grounds that well, especially not when buried under a foot of snow. So he pulled the coil off the hook, and within a few moments had tied it around his waist, looping the makeshift harness through the handle of the lantern, so that the light bobbed at his waist and cut through the dusk outside.

He opened the door, stepped outside, and closed it behind him quickly, leaving the mud room dry. The cold out here was far more vicious; it bit and slapped, throwing icy particles at his cheeks and nose. He hurried to the sagging porch steps, tied a quick and sure knot with the other end of the rope, and stepped off the wooden slats into what seemed like a pile of hellish, freezing, sharp powdered sugar, the wind screaming around him.

~~~

The little voodoo doll of himself hanging from the rearview mirror was not the last thing Magnus wanted to see in his lifetime. It also wasn’t the first, but he didn’t own an SUV, and he wasn’t about to go upstate in his Impala.

“So take Camille’s monstrosity,” Ragnor had said dismissively, earlier that day, when Magnus had approached him in the workshop with his dilemma. “She certainly has no need for it in the city. What?” he asked, seeing Magnus’s stricken expression. “It’s a company car. It’s not like you’ll owe her anything.”

“But I’d have to talk to her,” Magnus whispered.

“Darling,” Ragnor said, laying a comforting hand on Magnus’s shoulder, “I saw her flirting with Pangborn at lunch today. She’s over you. Don’t worry about it.”

And Magnus, fool that he was, believed Ragnor, right up until he got into the Jeep and saw an exquisitely crafted cloth doll swinging from the mirror, wearing a suit jacket identical to his own.

And sporting his hair. Down to the pink streak through his fringe.

He controlled his panic until he was on the highway, and then he FaceTimed Ragnor. “You knew about this,” he accused his mentor, turning the camera to the doll.

Ragnor’s deep laugh filtered out the phone speaker. “I cannot tell a lie,” he said.

“When will the damn tests be over, Ragnor?” Magnus shouted at the phone. “The stress is taking years off my life expectancy.”

“You’re the one who insisted on starting at the house with no academic degree,” Ragnor reminded him. “And you’re getting paid, which is more than my interns can say for themselves, and they work twice as hard as you.”

“Is this what hazing is like?” Magnus wondered, shivering. He couldn’t turn on the heat yet, lest the windshield fog up from the inside. “You’re hazing me. You. Seriously, Ragnor--”

“It’s only a few more months,” Ragnor interrupted him, voice going soft. “When your collection goes live, no one will ever run you through a wringer like this again.”

Magnus sighed and shook his head. “Thanks, Mr. Fell,” he said, a coil of sentimentality curling in his stomach. Ragnor had recognized his talents from his blog and Etsy shop. He was the reason Magnus wasn’t still whiling away his nights at a sewing machine and his days as a museum docent at the MoMA, dreaming of his art and resenting his lack of qualifications. He had given him a job, a spot on the workshop floor, a herd of over eager interns, and a command to have an exclusive collection ready for spring/summer.

“Call me that one more time and I’ll tell Camille you miss her,” Ragnor said smoothly, and hung up.

And now he was in the middle of nowhere, off any recognizable road, with a blizzard whistling by his window. The car battery wouldn't last through the night if he kept the heater on; there was no food except a very suspicious unlabelled plastic sleeve of what looked like beef jerky under the passenger seat next to him; and Magnus was freezing, despite the thermal shirt under his suit jacket and the scarf wound round his neck and ears.

And despite all that, he still wasn’t sure that that driving upstate to scout fashion shoot locations was a stupider move than dating Camille, however briefly it had lasted.

The last sign he had been able to vaguely make out was directions to a gas station, or a county center, or possibly a necromancy club. He had taken the turn and followed the road, struggling to stay on it. There was definitely a missed fork in the road, since the road he was on got rougher and rougher, travelling under trees. He stopped the moment he cleared the trees, the road beyond them lost in a whirling storm of white, and cursed out loud.

He had shut off the engine a few minutes ago, and could barely hear its ticking as it cooled down, past the wind blowing around him. It was like a particularly low-budget Halloween movie, all that howling. Magnus shivered and hugged himself, closing his eyes in brief prayer to a God he no longer believed in.

When he opened them, there was a shape plodding towards him. Magnus looked up instinctively, craning his neck forwards to try and see a higher power beyond the storm, and said, “I hope this is my salvation, God, because if it’s the Yeti I’d be really mad. Isn’t this enough?” He flicked the doll, which bobbed against his cheek.

Magnus withdrew, right as the shape reached his car and revealed itself to be a rather tall person, wrapped in winter gear and encrusted in snow. He had a rope tied around his waist, and suddenly Magnus was struck with how serious the situation actually was.

The man stopped, and Magnus looked at him, and then he raised his hand and made a gruff ‘come with me’ move.

Magnus unbuckled himself and scrambled around the car, gathering his stuff into an oversized rucksack, and grabbed the wool peacoat from the seat next to him, wrapping it around himself awkwardly before hoisting the rucksack onto his back and opening the door.

“Sweet mother of Donnatella Moss!” he yelled as the wind hit his face full force. He fumbled behind him for the keys to lock the door, but the man was tugging on his arm forcefully. In fact, there was a certain misjudgement of force, since Magnus was ripped away from the car and slammed into the man’s chest.

He heard the car door slam behind him, and before Magnus could appreciate just how solid his savior was, he was being dragged into the white void by said savior, who held onto him with one hand and pulled at a rope with the other.

After a few feet, Magnus tried straightening himself out to walk by the man’s side; his tugging wasn’t interpreted correctly, since the man tightened his grip on Magnus’s arm and pulled him along, forcing him to maintain the half-crouching stumble that made Magnus feel like his shoelaces were caught in his fly.

He scowled. This must be divine humor.

~~~

“Well done,” the golden man said, once they were inside the mud room. His arms were crossed over his chest and he looked pretty pissed - for a guy whose life was just saved.

Alec, pulling his gloves off finger by finger and laying them carefully on the rack to dry, unwound his scarf from around his mouth and said dryly, “More like medium-rare.”

The stranger’s eyebrow went up, and he let out a short, humorless bark of laughter. “Incredible.”

The scarf was laid out by the gloves; Alec hung his parka on a hanger and set it on the rack. He turned back to the man, and spread his arms.

The man looked at him, and his eyebrows climbed even higher. “What-- are you asking for a hug?”

“I figured that since you were annoyed at me for pulling you out of the snow, you weren’t very smart,” Alec retorted. “So this--” he jerked his arms impatiently “--is me, telling you to spread your arms, so I can take off your freezing and very inadequate outerwear so you won’t freeze to death.”

“You’ve cracked a fairly horrifying pun at me,” the man answered, eyes flaring up, “and from my response to that, you assume I’m an idiot?”

“I think you sort of agree with me,” Alec said carefully.

“Oh really. And why’s that?”

“Well,” Alec said with a broad grin, “you’re taking your own coat off.”

“Because it’s wet,” the man said, and he stalked past Alec to hang it up. “Besides,” he said, standing next to the air dryer to hold his hands to it, “I usually don’t allow men to undress me before I know their name, at least.”

Alec rolled his eyes. “Alec,” he said without preamble, and leaned on the wall to take his boots off. “Take your shoes off…?”

“Magnus,” the other man answered, as he held onto the clothes rack to balance himself as he unzipped the leather boots encasing his feet. Alec had a fleeting thought that the exotic name fit the man’s unique clothing, when Magnus pulled one boot off and he saw his socks.

“Now that’s adorable.”

“It is,” Magnus said, “and I’m not ashamed of them.” His feet were encased in cat socks - more accurately, the head of a spaced-out cat in a pattern on a black background.

Alec smiled, but let it drop, shoving his feet into furry moccasins next to the door. “Hang on,” he said, and he opened the doors of a closet next to the door, rummaging through it until he came up with an oversized oatmeal-colored pullover and a pair of Uggs.

“You’re gonna need these,” he said, turning around - and then he frowned. “Are you crossing yourself?”

Magnus made the sign of the cross and hissed at the pile of warm clothing in Alec’s arms. “Back, demon!”

There was a short silence; Alec stood there nonplussed, and Magnus continued scowling at the clothing. Suddenly, Alec turned around and shuffled his way to the door. “Freeze to death for all I care,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m going to the kitchen.”

“Wait, no!” Magnus called after him, and scurried through the door right before it shut behind him. The kitchen was enormous, with a new range and fridge installed on one side and a few honeyed wood cabinets installed beside them. The floorboards matched the cabinets, and smelled new. Across the room, beyond a low-riding trestle table that divided the space in half, was a neatly ordered jumble of personal belongings, a sleeping bag neatly laid out, and an actual fireplace, into which Alec was peering at the moment. The entire room was illuminated by a string of halogen bulbs nailed to the ceiling and attached to a hub next to the door, which seemed to power the scant electronics and appliances in the room as well. The cord to that hub snaked off somewhere into the darkness beyond the doorway.

All in all, the room had the feeling of a half-finished project. And yet, to Magnus’s practiced eye, the direction the room was taking was very, very promising.

“This place looks great,” Magnus said meekly, moving towards the table and gingerly pulling the sweater over his head, shucking his jacket first. It was warm, obviously hand-knit, and had sleeves so long that Magnus had to push them up his arms. “I’m… I’m sorry. There seems to have been a misunderstanding.”

Alec snorted, but straightened up. “There sure has.”

Magnus looked down at the floor. Noticing he was shoeless, he hastened to the table and grabbed the Uggs. “I’d like to apologize for my behavior back there. I wasn’t trying to stop you, I was trying to get the keys for the Jeep.”

Silence greeted him, and he raised his head to find that he was alone.

“Alec?” Magnus called, looking around. “Where are-- oh.” The door to the mud room was propped open, and Alec was rolling logs through the opening. Magnus deftly stepped out of the way, then picked some of them up and deposited them next to the fireplace.

Alec went back into the room and re-emerged with an armful of kindling, nudging the door closed with his foot. He dropped the kindling next to the logs, then crouched down and looked over at Magnus. “Do you know how to build a fire?” he asked, with a glint of humor in his eyes.

~~~

He was only joking with him, of course. After a quick reassurance, Alec built the fire, kindled it, and then stood up, dusting off his hands on his pants.

“So,” he said, walking over to the one finished counter and flicking on an electric kettle, “now that we won’t freeze to death you can tell me what you’re doing here.”

“Do I get to ask questions too?” Magnus inquired, a ghost of a grin playing across his face. Alec shrugged.

“Well,” Magnus said, sitting on the trestle table, “I was sent here by my mentor, Ragnor, to find locations for a fashion shoot--”

“In the middle of a blizzard?” Alec interjected, eyebrows shooting up into his hairline.

“Nothing looks as bad from the city,” Magnus explained. “I mean, yeah, we read weather reports, but we rarely get snowed in. So the assumption was that I’d only need a Jeep to brave the harder parts. Ragnor probably didn’t expect me to get stuck.”

Alec looked at him, evaluating, and finally asked, “What season is the shoot for?”

“Summer,” Magnus answered, narrowing his eyes at Alec. He shook a finger at him. “You’re astute, Alexander, but it’s not some sort of weird ploy,” he said with a flourish. “I chose the setting. It’s my first collection, and the contrary nature of the possible backdrop excited me.”

“And you had your eye on this house specifically?” Alec asked, turning around and moving back to the counter as the kettle flicked off, the water bubbling inside. He turned to Magnus to ask him what he wanted to drink, to find him leaning against the fridge, observing him closely. He jerked back in surprise at the proximity, knocking into the closed jars of coffee and sugar on the counter, which fell with a clatter into the sink.

“Shit,” he swore, and hastily retrieved the jars. “Uhm. How much--”

Magnus’s hand darted out to grab the can of Nesquik on the counter, and he opened it deftly, grabbing a spoon from the drying rack and heaping some of the chocolatey powder into his mug. “Can I borrow the coffee?” he asked Alec with a glint in his eyes, and Alec realized with a start that he was still grasping the coffee in a death grip.

He hurriedly put it down on the counter and shoved it in Magnus’s direction. The man caught it with a grin, added a spoon of coffee to the chocolate, and poured some hot water in, all while Alec stared at him with wide eyes.

~~~

It wasn't exactly teasing, but Magnus recognized that Alec was on edge and that Magnus being cryptic wasn't helping. So instead of prolonging the awkward silence, he took a sip of his hot beverage and regarded Alec with a calculating gaze again.

“When was the last time someone invaded your personal space without your consent?”

Alec jerked himself into motion, silently making himself a cup of coffee and avoiding Magnus’s gaze.

“Perhaps that was the wrong terminology,” Magnus conceded, taking another sip. “But the point is the same. You’re awfully isolated from the outside world.”

“By choice,” Alec said harshly, and closed the coffee jar tightly. Suddenly the air around him seemed to lose all the warmth it had been slowly gaining from the crackling fire.

Magnus stilled, hand on the counter as he regarded Alec again. “This house,” he said suddenly, putting down his mug and gesturing around himself. “It’s either huge, or someone really liked kitchens. Because this room is huge. Also, these cabinets look new and well made, and there’s a sleeping bag--” He stopped, and looked at Alec curiously. “Are you renovating this place on your own, or is someone helping you?”

“I’m doing the woodwork,” Alec said gruffly. “Have experts working on the electricity and plumbing.”

Magnus laughed, startling Alec. “That’s amazing,” he exclaimed, looking at Alec warmly. “That’s truly remarkable.”

Alec opened his mouth, then ducked his head as he blushed, and Magnus repressed the desire to put his fingers under Alec’s chin and raise his head. Instead, he wrapped his hands around his mug again and sighed. “You probably think I’m an idiot.”

Alec raised his head and looked at Magnus, confused. “Why would I think that?” he asked Magnus, who had moved to the other side of the kitchen and was sitting on the sleeping bag in front of the fire, staring into it as if the licking flames had answers.

“You’re here, building a house, and I drive around in blizzards, looking for backdrops for pictures of clothing. Who’s being a more productive and useful member of society?”

~~~

“That’s not fair,” Alec interjected, then grabbed a small glass bottle filled with amber liquid from the cupboard under the sink. Grasping his mug in the other hand, he moved to sit next to Magnus, and placed his mug in front of him. He felt the fear, the despair, rise in him, so he opened the bottle and poured some of the liquid into his coffee cup, feeling Magnus’s eyes on him.

“I never came out to my family,” he said, after taking a swig from his coffee cup and feeling it burn its way down, “but my sister always knew. Throughout my years in college, I led a double life, and living away from home made me cocky. The freedom was intoxicating. My friends…” He let out a pent up breath. “My college friends were… are… fearless. And one year, they pulled me down to the pride parade with them. And my grandfather saw me.”

“Oh,” Magnus breathed.

Alec laughed bitterly. “He didn’t out me to my parents,” he said, “or even to Grams. He wasn’t even sure it was me. He was in a wheelchair, his eyesight wasn’t so good. But he called and asked me, and like an idiot, I told him the truth. After that day, he barely spoke to me again.”

“Shit.”

Alec nodded, and took another sip. “When he passed away, Isabelle and Max inherited the money and I inherited this place. My parents thought it was his way of saying that he forgave me for studying architecture and not business or finance, but I knew he wasn’t that--” He swallowed and said thickly, “Wasn’t that creative.

“I was going to sell the house, but then Max died.” Alec’s voice was hollow. “Collateral damage in a drive-by shooting.”

The silence was broken by Magnus uncapping the bottle of whiskey and pouring some into his own mug. After recapping it, he laid his free hand on Alec’s forearm in silent support and raised the mug to his lips with the other, his gaze drawn to the flames as well.

“He was ten.”

Magnus squeezed Alec’s forearm in sympathy.

“I couldn’t stay in that city,” Alec said. “Not with my parents, my secrets, and my grandfather’s gaze on me. So I came up here, and I’m building myself a home.”

He turned his gaze to Magnus, who was still entranced by the flames, his dark eyes reflecting the yellow of the light and looking like cat’s eyes for a brief moment. “So when it comes to being productive,” Alec said quietly, “I’m really not that.”

Magnus raised his eyes from the fire to meet Alec’s. There was sorrow there, behind the flickering reflection of the flames. Sorrow, and kindness. Together, they felt a lot like acceptance. And acceptance felt… good.

~~~

“Alexander,” Magnus said softly, laying a hand on Alec’s forearm, “you’re remarkable, but you’re daft.”

Alec snapped out of what seemed like a trance, and frowned. “I-- what?”

“You’re building a house.” Magnus hoisted himself up and paced around the kitchen, caught up in the power of the moment. “You’re literally shaping your future with your own two hands. If that isn’t productive, I’ll eat my hat.”

Alec, who had turned around to watch Magnus with an inscrutable expression, smiled slightly, but his eyes were still guarded.

“This place is going to be a dream when you’re done, Alexander, I can just feel it.” He ran his fingers over the rough wall. “Delicate tiling, or maybe blonde wood panelling. Linoleum?” he asked, and Alec nodded. Magnus’s grin blossomed on his face. “Classic.”

“And an open doorway,” Alec said, hugging his knees. “It’s the closest I can get to open space in here without knocking down the walls.”

“See?” Magnus exclaimed, looking at Alec earnestly, his fingers still tracing invisible patterns into the wall. “You don’t need to be part of a society to be good. You’re taking control of your life, you’re making decisions. You’re literally shaping your future. And after everything you've been through,” Magnus continued, “that’s very truly remarkable.”

And to punctuate his point, he yawned hugely, the tensions of the day crashing over him just as the warm glow of appreciation from Alec’s slow smile and slight blush spread through him.

“You know,” Alec said, moving off the sleeping bag and flipping it over to show another sleeping bag underneath, “you have an incredible ability to lay out reality in such a way where everything makes sense.”

“Why, thank you,” Magnus said, and hid another huge yawn.

“Just one problem with that,” Alec continued, as he toed off his moccasins and put them next to the mud room door. “You don’t seem to give yourself the same grace.”

Magnus stared at him. “I don’t understand.”

“Look,” Alec said, as he collected his own mug and Magnus’s on his way to the sink. “You design clothing. You create wearable art. Your creations will benefit more people than mine. Don’t worry,” he said, holding up a sudsy hand from the sink, anticipating Magnus’s frown, “I’m not belittling my work. You’re… Well, you’re right.” He flipped the last mug onto the drying rack and wiped his hands off on the towel there, rolling his shoulders a bit as he did so.

“I’m creating something. I’m settling myself into the world. But,” and here he turned around and pointed at Magnus, “so are you.” His eyebrows drawn together, he added, “And don't go around denying it. It doesn't suit you.”

“How would you know what suits me?” Magnus asked flatly.

“Because in the span of about an hour, you insisted on going back to a car in the middle of a snowstorm. When you didn’t go back, you were snarky towards me, the reason you didn't return to the car. Then despite the cold, you made the sign of the cross towards a pile of clothing that may not be fashionable, but are certainly functional.” Alec leaned on the counter, arms crossed over his chest, and nodded towards Magnus. “And now you’re wearing them.”

“So?” Magnus retorted hotly.

“You don’t hesitate,” Alec said. “You exhibit no restraint. You’re stubborn and practical, but you have a set of personal values that sometimes override the practicality, and one of those values was being fashionable - right up until you realized that you might freeze, so you temporarily and slowly donned the less fashionable clothing.”

“So,” Alec finished, stepping towards Magnus until they were about a foot apart and Magnus had to look up at him, eyes unreadable but glinting, his jaw set, “denying yourself recognition that you clearly deserve, doesn’t suit you.” He added an eyebrow raise to emphasize his point.

“Touché,” Magnus murmured. In the split second before Alec drew away and turned towards the generator switches, he thought he saw Magnus’s eyes dart down to his lips and back up again.

“Take one of the sleeping bags,” Alec said shortly. “In the morning, if the blizzard’s died down, we’ll go get your car.”

~~~

It wasn’t until they were ensconced in the sleeping bags next to each other that they spoke again. The wind wasn’t as strong as it was a scant hour ago, but the whisper of the falling snow and the cold was still pronounced.

“Hey,” Magnus said softly, turning his head and propping it up on his arms. The light from the dying embers suffused the room with a very faint glow, but it was enough to see that Alec’s head was turned towards him. He cracked one eye open and raised his eyebrow questioningly.

“Thanks,” Magnus said. “For everything. And… well, sorry about the impromptu psychoanalysis.”

“No problem,” Alec murmured, closing his eye and smiling softly. “On both counts.”

“Oh,” Magnus exhaled, and smiled. “Okay then.”

“I should thank you.”

Magnus turned back to Alec, who was looking at him with both eyes open, but hooded. “What for?” Magnus asked.

“Saying what I needed to hear. And not what I wanted.”

“No problem,” Magnus echoed Alec with a smile. “On both counts.”

\---

The next morning dawned bright and cold. Magnus woke up with his face freezing but the rest of him toasty, and then yelped when something collided with his foot. 

“Sorry! Sorry, shit, sorry, I'm so sorry--” Alec exclaimed, and hurried over to the fireplace with the pile of kindling, red climbing over his cheeks in embarrassment. 

“Stop apologizing, Alexander,” Magnus mumbled as he propped himself up and yawned hugely. “Tis but a flesh wound.”

Alec snorted and went about building the fire. Magnus unzipped the sleeping bag after he realized that he couldn't walk around in it all day, shoved his feet into the warm Uggs with a grimace, and after a few experimental flicks of the generator switches, got the kettle going.

The next half hour or so passed by in pleasant conversation, punctuated by Magnus’s excitement when he discovered Alec’s stash of breakfast cereal (“Waffle Crisp! Truly, a man after my own heart”) and Alec giving Magnus a quick tour of the first floor of the house. 

The light filtering through the cloudy glass and clear plastic sheets draped over gaping holes in the walls was muted, as if it was masked by a light silk scarf. Alec didn't take him upstairs (“I haven't even been there yet, I don't want to go up there before I know that it's steady”), but he showed him the front room, the entryway, the rec room in the back, the guest room, and the back porch.

They were all just empty, crumbling rooms, and the guest room held some cloth-draped pieces of furniture, but Alec described their future designations as if there was a console set up already in the rec room, as if the herbs were spilling out of window boxes in the kitchen. And after a few minutes, Magnus found himself looking more at Alec’s shining eyes than at the warped floors.

But then it was over. The light became stronger, Magnus finished his cup of coffee, and soon enough, he was pushing through the thigh-high snowdrifts next to the house, following Alec to the Jeep, which was mercifully still there.

“Oh thank God,” Magnus groaned, and shivered - his pants were damp from the snow. “I thought I might have forgotten to close the door.”

“The main road will probably be clear by the time you reach it,” Alec said, squinting and looking around. “There’s a hospital up the road, so it’s a first priority. The copse doesn't get much snow, and this car can deal with whatever lies between the trees and the main road.” 

Magnus indicated the Jeep. “Will it start?”

Alec opened the door, peered at the dashboard, and called out, “Yeah, it has an engine warmer.” He put the keys into the ignition, half-turned them, and flicked a switch. Magnus could feel the hum of something starting up against his legs, where he was leaning against the car.

Alec was looking at him, squinting, and Magnus couldn’t look away. Alec’s shoulders rose defensively, then fell. “Well, there you go,” he said lamely, and turned to leave.

“Wait!” Magnus called, and grabbed his hand. Alec stopped and turned back to him, suspicious. Magnus comforted himself with the fact that he had turned back despite the suspicion, and said breathlessly, “Can I give you my number? And can we talk? You’re easy to talk to. I’d… This was a fortunate mistake, and-- well, not a mistake. Okay, the driving upstate in a blizzard was a mistake, but the rest--”

Alec stepped towards him, a wide grin on his face, and raised the hand not currently being held by Magnus, silencing him with a finger on his lips. “Sure,” he said, and drew his finger away so he could pull out his phone, tapping in the number Magnus gave him in a near whisper.

“Now that I’ve gone and embarrassed myself like a schoolgirl,” Magnus mused, after Alec stowed the phone back in his pocket, “there’s really only one way to regain my cool.”

“And that is?” Alec asked, a laughing note in his voice.

Magnus held his gaze for a few seconds, then smirked devilishly and, raising Alec’s hand (that he was still holding) to his lips, kissed his knuckles. “Until we meet again, he murmured, and was gone in a flash, backing out of the snowy driveway in the Jeep, leaving Alec wide-eyed and blushing, holding the kissed hand as if he was cradling a precious, newborn thing amidst all the snow.


End file.
